Michael Malone - Weebly

assumed the information to be classified, the installation
to be a military secret. Faith in one's superiors, orders
without explanations, the importance of security, all
these were a part of Ransom's heritage. In his time as
an army officer, he had obeyed without asking
questions, and he had ordered without answering them.
So while he felt ill at ease, he had never queried the
representative about his government's objections to the
proposed highway; there could be, he assumed, no
legitimate reason for discomfiture, since whatever they
had built there obviously had its purpose, all to the
good. And obviously, now that its purpose had been
served, it would be gone. The war was over. He told
himself today that he was wasting his morning only to
confirm what he already knew.
Ransom slowly worked his way through the matted
wilderness.
He felt ridiculous, a fifty-four-year-old man, a bank
president, spying as if to protect himself against a
government in whose capacity to protect him and his he
had always placed absolute faith. Finally he climbed out
of undergrowth into the clearing. It was still there.